


Hot Pants

by storieswelove



Series: Schitt's Creek Meet-Uglies [3]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alexis and Patrick are best friends!, Alternate Universe, David and Patrick still wanna make out, M/M, So basically, the usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:55:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22485163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storieswelove/pseuds/storieswelove
Summary: He breathes a sigh of relief against his chattering teeth as he hears the car door shut. He isn’t worried about getting caught half-naked – he’s picked up Alexis from way more compromising situations.Before he can register more than the way her footsteps sound weirdly dulled, heavy rather than the usual click-clack of  heels, he looks up to find —“Oh my god, Patrick, what thefuck?”***Patrick and Alexis are best friends; David and Patrick can’t stand each other. Patrick has successfully avoided him for two years, so of course the universe picks the longest week ever for David to find him in a compromising position.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer & Alexis Rose, Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Schitt's Creek Meet-Uglies [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1554166
Comments: 75
Kudos: 352





	Hot Pants

**Author's Note:**

> **Meet-Ugly prompt:** You’re my best friend’s sibling and we’ve never gotten along, so of course it had to be you to find me stuck outside my house naked even though we haven’t seen each other in over two years. 
> 
> Part of a series I'm starting after reading the greatest set of meet-ugly (as opposed to meet-cute) prompts by [veronicariley](https://www.pillowfort.social/posts/274308)

Patrick is pretty sure that if this week gets any worse, he’s going to have to rage quit his life and go on an extended vacation somewhere. At the end of a long week riddled with _two_ flat tires, an unexpected interaction with a cat that left him covered in hives, and having to fire someone, he’s locked himself out of his house. 

On a Friday night. 

In his underwear. 

In October. 

The only thing stopping him from full-out spiraling is that Alexis is due at his house with his guitar any minute. He had foolishly lent it to her for some mysterious project, and it had left him without anywhere to dispel his nervous energy all week. He needs it back STAT. His best friend might be a handful sometimes, but at least she followed through when it was important. And tonight, most importantly — she had his spare key. 

After what feels like half an hour, but is probably less than ten minutes, he watches the top of her white Audi pulling up from his hiding place, crouched on his porch out of sight from his neighbors. He breathes a sigh of relief against his chattering teeth as he hears the car door shut. He isn’t worried about getting caught half-naked – he’s picked up Alexis from way more compromising situations. 

Before he can register more than the way her footsteps sound weirdly dulled, heavy rather than the usual click-clack of heels, he looks up to find — 

“Oh my god, Patrick, what the _fuck_?” 

“Oh my god, David? What are you doing here?” 

“Alexis sent me!” David says, shaking Patrick’s guitar case lightly. David is averting his eyes. “I can’t believe she made me walk into another one of her weird sex traps.” 

“No, it’s not — I locked myself out of the house.” 

“Like _that?!”_

“Look, it’s a long story! Can you just—“ but before he can finish his sentence, David is laying the guitar on the floor and pulling off his black hoodie and passing it to Patrick, who is too cold to argue. He throws it on gratefully, but he doesn’t miss the tiny once-over that David gives him before he slips on the sweater. Patrick hates that he’s going to fall asleep thinking about that look for at least a week. 

“Thanks. Um, did you bring Alexis’s keyring by any chance? She has my spare.” He’s trying so hard not to look at David’s bare arms, but dear god his arms are never out and Patrick had forgotten that they looked like _that_. He is too spent to be dealing with this right now. 

David reaches into his pocket and pulls out a giant set of mismatched keys and what look like four different keychains. “I hope you know what yours looks like,” David says, rattling the keys a little. 

Patrick laughs. “Yes, yes, just let me—“ and grabs the keys from David. Still shivering, he manages to find the right one and open his front door. He motions for David to follow him inside. He can’t stand the guy, but he’s not going to steal his sweater. David hesitates on the porch before tentatively following Patrick in, stopping just inside the foyer. 

Patrick drops Alexis’s keys on his dining room table, picks up his phone, and gestures at David to sit down. “Just give me a second to get changed and I’ll give you your hoodie back.” 

He grabs his phone off the table on the way upstairs, and sees four missed calls from Alexis and a text that just says: _D is on his way to drop off the box. Sorry!!!!!!_ Patrick is ready to chew her head off and doesn’t want to have to wait. He taps her name on the missed call list. She answers on the first ring. 

“Heyyyyy.” Alexis's guilty vocal fry is the equivalent of a dog that won't make eye contact when it's done something wrong. For a woman who has escaped kidnappings in foreign countries with nothing but her wit, she sure is a shit liar for minor offenses. 

“Alexis,” he hisses, keeping his voice as low as possible. The last thing he needs is for David to overhear this. “What the _fuck_?” 

“Patrick, I’m sorry!” 

“What could possibly have come up so urgent that you had to send your brother? I literally have not seen him since….” It had been two years. Two long years, during which Patrick had eschewed every social function David might be at, ducking out of parties early and showing up late to drinks, all to avoid pretending he was fine with being stood up by David. Who, it became painfully obvious, he liked more than he’d ever liked anyone before. So of course the universe threw this at him today. 

“Look, it’s not that big of a deal —“ 

“Alexis, I was locked out of my house in my underwear when he showed up.” 

“Ew, Patrick, why? Was it some weird sex thing? Because I’ve told you, you have to set ground rules if—” 

“What? No! What is it with you two and weird sex things? I just locked myself out while getting the mail!” 

“Oh my god, poor thing!” Patrick can hear the exaggerated frown in her voice. “Well, you did want to hook up with my brother, maybe this is a sign—“ 

“Alexis!” 

“Okay, I’m sorry! It’s just that, you remember Ted? The vet?” Her voice has gone suddenly small. 

Of course Patrick remembers Ted, the vet, who Alexis has not shut up about for weeks. But her voice has never sounded this soft when talking about a guy before, so he’s trying to be gentle, even if he’s pissed. “Yes, I’m familiar with Ted. What does he have to do with this?” 

“He had a work emergency, something with one of the dogs, I think? Or maybe a cat? I’m not sure. Anyway, he was supposed to take me home, but he couldn’t because he’s performing surgery, which, ew! “But I know you needed your guitar tonight so I asked David to take it.” 

“Uh huh.” He’s giving her a hard time, but he’s gotta blow steam somehow. 

“Okay, I have to pay for his manicures for a month, so you had better know how much I love you, Patrick!!” 

Patrick huffs out a breath, but he knows, rationally, that there’s no one to be upset at but himself. He’s just going to have to face the music. “Okay, Alexis. Thanks for getting me my guitar back. I hope Ted’s surgery goes well.” 

“Love you, Patrick.” 

“Yeah, yeah, love you too.” 

He hangs up the phone and throws it on his bed. He pulls on a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans, and if they happen to be his tightest pair? That he knows for a fact make his ass look incredible? He can hate himself about it later. He carefully folds up the borrowed sweater, trying hard not to think about how it smells like David, and heads back downstairs. 

He finds David nervously perched on the couch, rubbing his arms — god, those arms — up and down like he’s cold. He hands David back the sweater. He needs to do the decent thing. He’s going to regret it. “Do you want a drink? I have whiskey, rye, gin…” 

“Um, no, you don’t have to…” 

“No, you’re freezing and you just had to witness —“ Patrick laughs uncomfortably. Amazing that somehow he’s still single, with moves like these around cute guys. “—that. It’s fine.” 

“Oh, ok, um, then rye is good, thanks.” 

Patrick gives them both hefty pours, because if they’re doing this, they may as well commit. He hands David the second tumbler, and when their hands brush, David jerks away so fast that he almost spills it on himself. So, looks like nothing has changed. 

Patrick takes a huge gulp. “Sorry about that—about earlier. I was um, trying to grab a package in a rush and my damn door locked behind me. But Alexis was supposed to be coming so...”

“Oh, it’s fine,” David says, awkwardly. This is the worst. “So um, how have you been?” 

They make painful small talk for a while, throwing in life updates (David is opening a shop; Patrick is still working at the accounting firm; David just broke up with his girlfriend, which Patrick definitely isn’t fixating on; Patrick is thinking about getting a dog), and Patrick refills their glasses. 

Patrick is pretty sure David is flirting with him. David keeps inching closer on the couch, and Patrick leans in a few times to test out the theory. David never pulls back. But he wants to be positive, so he whips out his cheapest trick. 

During a lull in conversation, Patrick runs a hand over the knee of his own pants and says casually, “I know you’ve given me a hard time over the quality of the, ah, _midrange denim_ I wear, but these jeans are so soft.” Patrick knows in his heart of hearts that David can’t resist a textile conversation.

“Mmmm, is it?” David says, his voice low, and he leans forward to run a hand down Patrick’s thigh, starting too high and moving too slowly to be friendly. “I don’t know, it feels kind of firm.” His hand lingers on Patrick’s knee for just a beat too long. 

Bingo. 

But Patrick has been here before, he reminds himself — late nights and tall glasses of some amber liquor, laughing and light touches and flirty, pointed comments, that somehow always ended with David going home with someone who wasn’t Patrick. 

Patrick knows, he really does, how pathetic that sounds. But what was he supposed to do? David was — is— gorgeous, and challenging, and insightful, and he made Patrick feel like he’d been lit up from inside. It’s why, despite the apparent rejection, he’d caved and asked David to dinner. He was going to make sure he really shot his shot before giving up. 

David hadn’t stood him up, technically, but Patrick still thinks a text that says “sorry, forgot I had drinks with Sebastien, see u at the next party” an hour before a date is a particularly fucked up way to blow someone off. 

But. 

But they’re here now and Patrick is _exhausted_. He’s so fucking tired of games, and crappy dates with guys who don’t immediately send dick pics on Grindr — and hookups with guys who do — and he just wants one tiny piece of his dating life to be less complicated. He wants to be able to hang out with his best friend without the looming fear of a humiliating missed connection watching over his shoulder. 

The liquor is loosening Patrick up, and he takes one big gulp before he decides to go for it. 

“Listen, I know it’s been a while but I need to get this off my chest,” Patrick says, and David’s head jerks at the obvious change in temperature of the conversation. Patrick registers that David is at the beginning of one of the infamous Rose Face Journeys, but he refuses to let it derail him. He’s had enough practice with Alexis to be able to ignore it for a while. “I was really upset when you stood me up for our date. But, while it was really shitty of you, I handled it poorly. I wish you’d just like, told me you weren’t interested, but avoiding every social occasion I knew you’d be at for two years was hardly the right call. So, I’m sorry, because I know I’ve made things weird between us, and I want us to be able to move past it.” 

Patrick finishes in a rush before he manages to take a breath again. David’s mouth hanging open and his eyebrows are almost to his hairline. David seems at a loss for words, which is a first. Patrick would be amused if he weren’t working so hard to temper the adrenaline rush that accompanied the confession. He really wishes he didn’t like David so goddamn much. 

“What do you—I— _what_?” David’s brow is furrowed now and he’s still gaping at Patrick like Patrick confessed to moonlighting as an astronaut. 

“ _What_ what, David?” He isn’t sure what part of his _I’m sorry and I forgive you_ is unclear to David, but nearly a decade around the Roses has taught him that normal, human connection is often foreign to them. He really loves them all a lot. It’s inconvenient, sometimes. 

“When you say a date, you mean...?” 

Patrick cocks his head to the side. Is David just fucking with him? “You know, a date, David. Chat up a cute boy, tell him you like his Givenchy sweater because you’ve heard him say it’s Givenchy about a dozen times in your life, ask him if he wants to get dinner, put on a nice button down—I happen to have inside knowledge that you’ve been on one or two of those yourself.”

“Oh my god, that — I— I thought that was supposed to be a, you know, like a guy-to-guy thing!” 

Patrick can’t help himself. “Is that what the PornHub category is called?”

“Oh my _god_. I mean I thought you were trying to get in good with me so Alexis would date you!” 

“What?!” Patrick doesn’t even want to know what his face is doing right now. “David, I’m gay.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know that? You had just broken up with Rachel!” David’s voice is pitching up like it always does when he’s upset or excited or defensive or just _David_. He’s gesticulating wildly with his hands, like he’s trying to put up a barrier between himself and the past misunderstanding. It’s amazingly, impossibly endearing. Patrick has no idea how he still has it this bad after a two year hiatus. 

“David! I made reservations at your favorite restaurant. I was trying to ask you out for _months_. I flirted with you at literally every party from basically the second I broke up with Rachel.” 

Patrick can see the pieces start to fall together in real time on David’s face. His eyes are wide as quarters as Patrick loses sight of them behind David’s hands. He’s buried his face in his long fingers, and it’s a mark of just how pathetic and distracted Patrick is that all Patrick can think about are those fucking fingers. 

“And I...?” David’s voice is filled with dread. 

“Kept ending the night going home with someone else? Literally anyone else? Yeah. Yup.” Patrick continues to nod, and a tiny hope blooms in his chest at how aghast David looks now that he’s lowered his hands. 

“Patrick, I...” David trails off, and instead reaches for the bottle of rye on the coffee table. He pours himself two fingers and knocks it back in one go. “I’m sorry, I had no idea. I, um. I liked you. A lot. And I was losing my fucking mind because I thought you were trying to date Alexis? Hooking up with those people was, well...easier? Than wallowing in it? Fuck.” 

The swoop in Patrick’s stomach is so intense that it knocks the wind out of him. 

“Well, probably for the best, anyway,” David says, interrupting Patrick’s thoughts like a brick wall. “As I’m sure you’ve gleaned in your decade with us, dating one of the Rose siblings inevitably ends in disaster.” Patrick wants to kiss the grimace off his face so badly, but he isn’t sure if David is just trying to let him down easy, let Patrick know he isn’t interested anymore. 

“Okay, could you stop talking about my friends like that? I’m kind of fond of them.” Patrick smiles at David. This is just so much easier than resenting him. He’s rewarded with a sincere, crooked smile, and the tiny bloom of hope has blossomed into a full field of flowers. 

* * *

Talking to David is impossibly easy. David is so animated when he talks, and it’s gorgeous, somehow more and more gorgeous as the years have passed, and Patrick is so utterly fucked that he can hardly comprehend it. 

Patrick is fairly certain David is still interested. At one point, David gets up to use the bathroom and drops back down onto the couch a full foot closer than he was before. They’ve had a good bit of rye, but not nearly enough for Patrick to think it’s the booze, and he wants so badly to put his theory to the test. 

But he’s a wimp, because this is Alexis’s brother, and the nerves from years of presumed rejection didn’t vanish along with the misunderstanding. 

At some point, Patrick’s stomach rumbles, and pulls out his phone to check the time — 8pm. They’ve been sitting on the couch for two hours. He also has three texts from Alexis, but he’ll deal with those later. “Damn, I didn’t realize how late it was. I’m starving.” 

“Oh,” David says quietly. “That’s um, yeah, I’ll just call an Uber--” 

“No, no, I didn’t mean--” Patrick is too flustered to recover smoothly but the last thing he wants is for David to leave. “You--” 

David cuts him off. “Can I, um, take you to dinner?” 

The garden of tempered hope is now a full forest, but Patrick really can’t help himself. He smirks. “Is this like a guy-to-guy dinner?”

David huffs, and he can see the walls sliding back up on David’s face. “Okay, if you don’t want to you don’t have to—“

Patrick actually physically cannot take it. He lunges forward to kiss David, hand wrapped around the back of David’s neck, mouths crashing so hard it almost — _almost_ — hurts. 

He pulls back and David is smiling a full-mouthed smile. Patrick has never seen his face so unrestrained. It’s breathtaking. “Mmmm, don’t think I’m really in the mood to go out.” 

“Oh, okay,” David says, and laughs as he kissed Patrick again. 

After a few seconds, David pulls off with a pop. “Okay but as cute as you are? I _will_ need to eat at some point.” 

A full-bellied laugh tumbles out of Patrick before he can stop it. He has never felt so fucking fond. “I’ll order pizza.”

* * *

 **Alexis** : Hey you ok? 

**Alexis** : Patrick 

**Alexis** : Ok david isnt answering either

 **Alexis** : Patrick!!!!

 **Alexis** : Ugh

 **Alexis** : Gross

**Author's Note:**

> All my love to my personal hero, [ships_to_sail](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ships_to_sail/), for her patience with me this week while my brain was actual sludge, and for triple checking to make sure things she had already said were fine were fine.
> 
> If you have a Meet-Ugly you wanna see, let me know which one in the comments or on [Tumblr @ storieswelove](storieswelove.tumblr.com/ask)! You can find the list [here](https://www.pillowfort.social/posts/274308).


End file.
